


Halfway Home

by annemaris (annemari)



Category: Skins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annemari/pseuds/annemaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Cook had always caused trouble, and Freddie had always been there to bail him out.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Halfway Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written before the 3rd season started. Thanks to **summerstorm** and **thelackoflight** for betaing!

Cook had always caused trouble, and Freddie had always been there to bail him out.

Whether he got into fights or got caught doing something of questionable legality, Freddie was there, ready with his wit and that charming smile that even worked on adults.

That was where their difference lay: Cook's charm worked on the ladies (and, occasionally, on a lad or two), and Freddie's teeth had an effect on parental figures.

It really came in handy, for both of them.

\---

When Freddie asked Cook if he had donated his eyebrows to Eleven, he didn't have a clue what his best friend was on about. Neither did he bother to ask, of course. Answers came to him; he didn't have to go and seek them out, ever.

"JJ and his new magical fuckery", he explained. "Think they'll grow back for the party?"

"Well, we could always draw them on," Freddie suggested.

"And get caught stealing your sister's make-up again?"

Freddie shrugged and examined the burn marks on Cook's forehead. "Damn, these look pretty rough." He gently touched his fingers to the red scrapes just a bit above where his friend's eyebrows used to be. There was still some fried hair left, but the overall image was quite comical, or at least would have been if not for the rawness of the skin, which actually looked quite painful.

Cook pushed his arm away, dodged under it and stalked over to the fridge.

"Well, you know how sensitive my skin is," he smirked, pulling the door open and reaching for some cheese.

\---

Freddie had been smitten with Effy since the first day. Cook didn't have time to be annoyed, busy with causing as much trouble as possible. It got a bit weird after a week, though Cook had to admit that the girl was quite amazing, but the whole thing was getting ridiculous. Freddie followed her every move and only talked about the way the sun reflected on her hair or something. Cook had never seen his best friend get so stupid because of a girl. He passed it off as a simple infatuation, but felt it might turn into something more if Freddie wasn't careful. On top of it all, Cook missed his best friend. He had started to spend more time with JJ but, even though the guy was amusing, Cook always flinched when he got too close and he knew that must hurt someone so insecure. But he hadn't forgotten the eyebrows. To be honest, he wasn't comfortable with any guy being near him besides Freddie and now he didn't even have that anymore. Which was, of course, a really weird thing to miss, but Cook wasn't exactly used to contemplating about life so he let it slide.

\---

Freddie will always remember that one day in June when he came home after school with his best friend and found his dad sitting on the chair he loved most, crying.

Cook was there, through it all. Throughout the hottest summer they could remember and the new school year that spelled "change" in so many ways. Freddie realised he'd always be there and never questioned it again.

\---

"Did you hear about Patrick Wolf gettin beat up at a Madonna show?" Freddie enquired. He and Cook were lying on the floor in some random girl's house at 2AM, with the party slowly dying around them. Cook's eyebrows hadn't grown back, but they'd decided that drawing them on would be more worrisome than worrying over the lack of them.

"Is that the bloke who sings that song with the.. with the foot thumping?"

Freddie paused for a second. "The Magic Position," he realised.

"Why'd he get beat up?" he asked with a dazed expression which meant he didn't exactly care for the reason, but was instead imagining someone trying to beat up a 6'4'' mythical creature.

"'Cause he was kissing 'his man'," Freddie replied and struggled to sit up.

"What, is that illegal at a concert or something?"

"Apparently the fact that he was kissing a man was a bit problematic."

Cook had always wondered how Freddie could still be so coherent while completely wasted. It was probably something you couldn't learn, because God knows, Cook had tried.

"Well, that's bollocks," was the best he could come up with.

"Couldn't agree more," muttered Freddie as he lit another smoke.

"Cook wasn't prepared to drop the subject, though. What kind of a world was it where we couldn't even kiss the people we wanted to kiss? It was an outrage, the appalling state of the current generation and... What was he thinking about again? Bugger.

He was still lying on the floor, staring at Freddie, who was sitting next to a couch with the ugliest cover he'd ever seen.

"Where's Effy?" he asked, keeping a close eye on his friend's facial expressions.

"Why you asking me?"

"Well, I thought - you looked quite cosy the other night," Cook tried to keep the accusation out of his voice.

"Well, we're not."

Freddie could say things with absolute nonchalance in situations where other people would snap. Cook had always liked that about him. And he could always tell if something was bothering Freddie more than he let on. And they'd been friends since the 2nd year, hadn't they? And he was mighty pretty when you looked at it objectively. Or not objectively. And he was looking extra fine tonight.

Cook was really drunk.

Freddie's hair was sticking out on the right side. If he'd just reach out, he could easily grab it. The light was blurred and illuminated him from behind which made him look a bit like tinkerbell jesus. After realising that Cook had never seen Doctor Who, Freddie had gone to great lengths to fix it.

Cook decided just to go for it. He wasn't exactly sure whether he was intoxicated by the alcohol or by Freddie's eyelashes, but that was clearly besides the point.  
A second later, he was upright and pressing himself against his best friend's body. It wasn't as if that hadn't happened before, but the need to tangle his hands into Freddie's dark hair and touch his lips to the boy's mouth was definitely new. The music pulsed around them and he pulled Freddie down with him.

He only remembered that he passed out on the ground once more, but this time, someone's hand was resting on his hip.

\---

They didn't mention it the next day. In fact, Cook didn't see Freddie much, besides at school. He had woken up alone in his room with no memory of how he got there and, even though he was actually tucked in his bed (which rarely ever happened), he still felt cold.

\---

Freddie hadn't spoken to Cook in two weeks. It'd been really weird, just hanging out with Effy and the girls. They had no idea why Freddie and Cook were avoiding each other, or even that they were; it seemed like no one really cared. Well, no one really knew how close they'd been before, either. No one except JJ, that is. Which would probably explain why he was the one to let Freddie know about what was going on.

\---

Cook is sitting on his bed with his back to the door when Freddie comes over. It's clear now, what JJ meant, when Cook turns his head to look at his friend. Freddie almost flinches back at the sight.

"What have you got yourself into?" he asks, walking slowly toward the bed.

"Mm, this? Nothing out of the ordinary," Cook murmurs, and, gently, he touches his jaw, which still doesn't appreciate even the thought of moving.

"Are you insane? I've never seen you like this."

Cook doesn't remember ever hearing Freddie like this. He was always very firm when he told Cook and JJ that they were clearly mental, but he was never upset, or anxious. Never like this.

Cook shrugs.

"Guess this is what happens when you're not here to look out for me."

"Are you saying it's my fault?" Freddie asks in disbelief in his tone. "Wait, no, are you saying that you went out there and got yourself beaten up to- to _what_\- to _get my attention_?"

Cook isn't looking at him anymore, isn't looking at anything, isn't thinking. He's just glad to hear his voice, which, again, is ridiculous, but but apparently that's the way things are.

"I just tried to go on the way I always had, you know. It didn't quite work out," he sighs. He pauses and clears his throat before he starts again. "Um, I'm.. sorry, I guess. I'm not exactly sure what I'm sorry for, but yeah?" He's not sure what he's saying either, but figures it's worth a try.

He feels the bed move under him as another body silently creeps on it.

He flinches violently as Freddie touches the bruise on his back. Freddie apologises as Cook explains exactly - and in detail, as he always has - what he got into.

They're both surprised when Freddie's hands move down towards Cook's waist and start tugging off his shirt. Cook raises his arms slowly as his friend gently removes the cloth sticking to his upper body and inspects the cuts and bruises.

Cook shuts his eyes as cold hands wrap around his torso and a slightly scratchy chin is placed on his right shoulder.

They stay like that for a while. They don't talk about it later. The "I missed you"s are not said out loud, but that doesn't mean they aren't clear in the air around them.

\---

They're sixteen-year-old boys and they don't stop to think or talk, 'cause time's already running out. So they don't tell the others 'cause it'd be like stating the obvious — it's not like they don't notice them together during breaks and after school and during parties—, and they don't tell their parents 'cause, really, when has a teenage boy ever revealed his best secrets?

They just are, together, like they always have been.


End file.
